xoxo, nico

another day another dollar or so they say. time is made made though, a figment of our imagination or may be something that sounds as if you could have made it up somewhere along the way. truth is a stranger to fiction even if they’ve been introduced multiple times what they forget to remember always ends up failing not letting the two of them recollect every other time they’ve met. seeing is believing even if it didn’t make a difference then. maybe you’re to busy dreaming up how you could prove everything is a sorry hypothesis tangled up in the always or so it seems.

two pence for entrapment plus one penny for your thoughts but if forgiveness is as simple as worthless then nothing can balance when market values are measure by what’s bought. supply and demand can equal shameful if a deal is what you sought so what’s the point of sentimental when what you’re fighting for is done and lost. there are those who drink themselves back to the beginning then believe they’re the one’s who deserve the happy endings, predict the outcome of fantasies and believe what they need until irony proves them wrong. i dare you to pretend you’re enchanted with the hypothesis of incompetent or better yet prove you’re capable of making a mistake you’re proud to admit. your true colors are transparent and you’re worth far less than any unfortunate chain of events or destruction you have to live with since every connection we had most likely considers you past tense.

its not easy living someone elses’ dream. its not fair, its not real but at least it could be my new beginning or a false pretense for all those fantasies i imagined that could possibly happen to me. a lottery of disguises and plots to keep my piece of mind from turning into dust at the gates of reality. perhaps its the four letter answer to the crossword riddle for deity or maybe the clue i’m missing could crack the code of why i told the lies i pretend to know in order to keep from revealing the consequences of what holds me back from killing any truth worth its exposure. my faith is locked inside a cryptic jewelry box and everything i conceal is as valuable as believing there’s a pin-light worth reaching if i make it through this tunnel. i can’t help but blame myself for being the victim of a dream and when i take the stand you can be the guest of honors’ lonely witness. as i raise my right hand and plead insanity the holy grail can disappear beneath my fingertips because i solemnly plead to never admit i was the only soul who made the mistake of believing its perfectly okay to keep my toes crossed when i made a wish. i am brave enough to hope to die but petrified to pull the needle out of my eye.

well hello there best friend, aka sunshine. i will never unconditionally love anything the same way i love you and i don’t even care that you left me for digital. she’s pretty with so many more capabilities and a really nice body. i can’t even compete. it was like a slap in the face when i found out you developed a relationship with technology, i should have saw it coming. in an instant my life changed and now it will never be the same. i keep trying to convert but its so difficult. i can’t get over how much i think about you and how long i can stare at the memories i secretly keep in a hat box hidden underneath his box spring. our love has been and will forever be forbidden.

if we describe ourselves as “freelance” then why do any prospective employers think we want to work for free? its as if they take the literal meaning of the first part of this overly used compound word and use it to take advantage of any self-employed individual and demote them to “intern” with experience. ahha, craigslist.org, an invaluable resource to find people seeking valuable services free of charge; the revolution that caused the cost of creativity and diminishing day rates to drop along with the rest of an economy who’s rich get richer and poor get food stamps but starving-artists-looking-for-reputable-work get trade for print. its not their fault, the employer didn’t do it either but he could the accessory to blame for contracting the hobbyist who got a digital SLR for a retirement gift. obviously that guy knows how to set the dial at the little green square better than the intern fresh out of pratt buried under student loan debt but hungry enough to work for the stipend they’d get if the employer didn’t keep it in his pocket in exchange for yet another self-taught “talent” credit. its difficult not to let the big apple rot while you slave away for a corporate salary until the day your pension allows you to pay for the electronics you’ve always wanted. making it is not about the benefits, its about creating something out of nothing. if we are brave enough to live off our art then we should be proud to swallow our pride when we truly believe in any gig commissioned for free.

i wrote out my rent check and i have four whole dollars in my bank account. i’ve been broke for so long its turned into gangrene and they’ll have to amputate because the depth of this infection takes over everything even if there was a slight chance the wholes will heal. everything i had has shattered into a million pieces and whatever was priceless has been buried underneath a pile of needles.

free spirit costs a pretty penny. one out of seven of these accomplishments i claim had nothing to do with me. the reason why my name is attached to them comes directly from some random connection. the most valuable lesson i’ve learned is to keep the right people a far cry from the ones who pretend to have compassion. does anyone who claims i give too much away count for anything anyway??? they’re the one’s who will come running the next time i spiral into the depths of my disposition, maybe. they’re the ones who will sit at home catching up on tivo wondering why the fuck service is expensive.

stay tuned…

i interrupt people in mid-sentence. i don’t listen and i have the attention span of a kitten. drama always follows like a shadow that will most likely come tap tap tapping on my shoulder within a matter of minutes. its impossible to keep any distance between me and the man on the moon or a break any concentration away from too weak dreams. my imagination is a cuckoo clock hung on the wall who tricks each tock every second except two ticks wrong. i eat sleep and bleed curiosity and then stumble upon facts long after i forgot to stay tuned in to the hunt for the truth but this can be blamed on my own personal patients. the one who can afford to cover the cost is the mastermind behind the value so to him all i have to scream are the reasons why i find myself to be willing and able.

“how do you turn down the volume on your own personal-drama earphones and learn how to listen to other people? how do you jump off one moving train, marked YOURSELF, and jump onto a train moving in the opposite direction, marked EVERYBODY ELSE?” ~rob sheffield